Faults
by nesza
Summary: A dark, twisted take on the relationship of the three main characters. Rated M for disturbing thoughts. Oneshot.


**A/N:** I'm warning you guys, this is a dark fic…well, as dark as I can make it to be. I need you to be open-minded if ever you decide to go on and read this. **If you don't want your sweet and innocent view of the Cloud, Aeris and Tifa relationship distorted and/or destroyed, then I advise you not to read this.** I don't want to read reviews that say it sucks because that's not how you saw them. I didn't see them like this (most of the time) either, and I also think their relationships with each other are nothing nearly as destructive as this. But Cloud had always been somewhat of a psychotic anyway, though he's not always this fucked up. I love the three of them, but somehow, this story got to my head and I can't kill the urge to write this.

It's a much gloomier take on the relationship among the three main characters of the game. So don't expect fluff or anything of the like. This fic can also be very confusing. I have tried to clear things a bit and I hope you guys could follow along.

Constructive reviews are welcome, flames will be ignored.

**Disclaimer:** ff7 and AC are not mine.

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**Faults**

He foundered back, tripping on a rock and hitting his back painfully on the trunk of a tree. He let go of his bloody sword and instead pressed his hand to his side. He cursed at how slow he had gotten to be, he couldn't even dodge gunshots anymore. The holes on his side bled profusely and he gritted his teeth as he inserted a finger inside in an attempt to get the bullets out.

One, two bullets. Three.

He gave up. There was no use taking them all out. Already, he didn't care if he was successful in killing the other man, though he was sure he had wounded him pretty badly with cuts across his back and chest. It didn't matter who died at the end of the fight; they both lived miserable lives after all.

Cloud turned to look at his already long severed arm and noticed that blood was seeping through. He looked longingly at the hand that he could no longer move, the hand that can no longer feel. As he sat there, bleeding to death, thoughts of his former grace danced in his mind. Bitterly, he wondered if _she_ would let him touch her now. If he would let himself touch her with useless hands.

How could he?

He threw his head back in resignation and he realized that he was falling, falling into darkness, the only place he deserved to be in. He realized that falling into darkness was the same as falling through church roofs and flowerbeds. The destination was pretty much the same.

Funny, four years ago he would have thought different.

He was always fucked up since he can remember. There was no way he could have lived a normal life after failing SOLDIER, spending five years in a tube and living a complicated lie. Four years ago, however, things had turned even sourer. The fucked-up young man became even more screwed up.

Everything he was had been stripped off him, only because he wasn't good enough. Only because he wasn't good enough for _her_. Going in and out of battles with thoughts of _her_, with the promise that someday he'd be worthy of the land of eternal happiness. With _her_. He had tried, he had fought, and it only took him one fight, one slash, one second to fail and to fade.

Since then, he had felt himself become useless. His arm, the one he prided over for its strength to carry his beloved friend's sword was already invalid. It was his fault that he was weak. It was his fault that he wasn't strong enough to win the fight with all appendages intact. It was his fault that he was unlucky enough that even death refused to claim him.

It didn't take long before the world descended upon him after that. It was painful to sleep at night knowing dreams of failure would haunt him. It was worse waking up. He'd spend the whole morning on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wallowing, sometimes crying.

He had gone worse in just a few weeks. Drinking at night, drinking in the morning. Late deliveries, missed deliveries, no deliveries. Crossed temper, angry shouts, obscene words. Tifa offered help, a chance of reprieve. But he slapped her helping hand away and told her to let him be.

And suddenly she was Shera and he was Cid, only she didn't deserve to be.

She was a saint to put up with him. No, she was worse than a saint, she was a martyr. She loved him so much and hoped he would get better, that they would get better. He knew. Of course he knew that it was him she yearned for at night, that it was him she thought of whenever sounds of church bells filled the air. She loved him so much it was sickening. She loved him so much that he treated her like dirt and it was alright. And he did his part well. Hurting her and picking her up only to hurt her some more.

It was wrong, he knew, but such were things he can't help but do. All because he was angry and she was willing. All because she loved him too much and he knew it. She put up with it all, not caring so much that she was dying deep inside from the torment he brought her. He remembered vaguely, in one drunken haze, she had the guts to offer herself to him. She was so beautiful yet so repulsive. If he hadn't been so disgusted, he would have actually touched her skin before turning her away.

In such a small time, Tifa, his pillar of strength had become his source of repulsion.

What Tifa failed to understand was that it took so much more than just to love him to have him. And things that were given away never return. Much like his heart, much like his soul. And he admitted, shamefully, that it only took a few smiles, a few meaningful words for him to give both away.

_I want to meet…you._

_She_, the one who cruelly possessed both, would always visit his dreams. There had been a time when dreams of _her_ were filled only with delight and comfort. That was before he lost his only means to fight, his only means of fulfilling their promise, before his arm was rendered useless by fate.

Now, he'd sleep angry and wake up even angrier. His few hours of solace away from the oppressing grip of reality had been turned to moments of reproach. Only because _she_ was there and he knew he didn't deserve _her_. Not with a useless arm, not with a useless mind, not with a trampled soul.

_She_ was always there, always kind, beckoning him to change, telling him that it was alright. He'd be shamed beyond belief for what he had become, and the more _she_ looked at him with no judgment in her eyes, the more he'd wallow in disgrace. He had failed _her_, he was not good enough. Never good enough. And the more he saw _her_, the more he was reminded of these facts. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. And the angrier he was, the much more undeserving and broken he turned to be.

And it was _her_ fault—_her_ fault for being everything he wanted, _her_ fault for leaving him, _her_ fault for controlling him and making him believe that promises were bound to be fulfilled, for taking his soul, for claiming his heart.

Thinking about it, what fate gave him was nothing more than a wake up call. He had been so blind to the underlying truths beneath everything they shared. Never before had he realized just exactly how wicked and manipulative _she_ was.

"Cloud, why won't you look at me?" _she_ had asked once. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream. _She_ was dead, he had let _her_ die.

It was his chance, his chance to fight back, if only in his dreams. He turned to _her_ with glaze in his eyes and with his functional hand, he reached for _her_ and squeezed firmly and gently at the same time. He could feel _her_ pulse on_ her_ delicate neck, _her _delectable warmth in his fingers. He wanted to hurt _her_, to break _her_. His grip tightened and _her_ choking pleas were music to his ears. Looking at_her_ lips quiver, he thought of pushing _her_ roughly on the floor, tearing off _her_ clothes and fucking _her_ so rough and so hard _she_'d get a taste of the pain _she_ always made him feel. And he wondered not for the first time if hurting _her_ so bad would make _her_ think that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't so undeserving after all.

He made the mistake of looking into _her_ eyes. For the first time in months he had the guts to look _her_ in the eye. He saw his reflection in _her _eyes and he loved those eyes so much that looking at them tore him up and left him vulnerable. His fingers on _her_ delicate neck yearned for contact but burned at the thought of causing _her_ pain. He wanted nothing more than to hurt _her_ for leaving him, manipulating him and hurting him but he can never do it. He was a coward and he was stupid and he took his hand off and wasted the opportunity.

"It's alright," _she_ said, giving him a smile.

Coming to his senses and seeing _her_ pained gaze, he collapsed into _her_ arms like a child clinging to his mother in desperation. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." _She_ held him, rocking back and forth, whispering words of comfort in his ear.

With every word _she_ spoke, it crushed his bones and wounded his soul. With every contact of their skin, it burned. With every thought of waking up, it broke his heart. Yet he yearned for _her_ words, hungered for_her_ touch and begged for the dreams to come. And he loved _her_ so much it hurts. He loved _her_ so much that every time he woke up he'd be much more broken than he was before.

He realized he loved _her_ too much and _she_ knew it. And that's why _she_ kept on hurting him. He cried, wondering just how sickening he was in_her_ eyes.

He was Tifa and _she_ was him. And he wondered if he deserved to be.

Years had passed like days, and he was angrier at the world than he'd ever been. He'd stay in his room, sleeping, thinking, dreaming. And every time he woke up, tears would stream down his eyes. Tears wasted for a promise that will never be fulfilled.

Tifa eventually moved on and kicked him out of the house. He deserved it. He had done too little and too much. The kids were afraid of him, she stated. Perhaps, she said, it was better if he lived away for a while. He remembered the exact instance that caused Tifa to think that maybe it wasn't right for them to become a family after all.

Tifa had gone to the next town to buy supplies. Cloud was left to man the house and care for the kids. He watched through a slightly opened door how the kids were doing. There was a ramble among the kids but Cloud initially didn't care. Kids were always too rowdy anyway. He would have just let them be if not for the fact that it was Denzel who was caught in a fight with another kid, and Marlene, not too far away, was crying and nursing a scraped knee. It didn't take long for him to process the information. It was almost like a joke that he saw himself in Denzel's shoes, protecting the young girl, who, in almost like a slap to the face, looked very much like the late Flower Girl.

Rage filled Cloud, for reasons only a fool can understand. How could he just stand there and see the past repeat itself? How can he just stand there and not warn the protector himself from the woman he was trying to protect? There was still time, and Cloud owed it to himself to save Denzel from the same fate he was subjected to.

Angrily, he kicked the door wide open and the room fell dead silent. With a furious gaze from Marlene to Denzel, he violently took the young boy's arm and dragged him to the next room.

"Cloud, it's not his fault—Cloud, please don't hurt him. Cloud!" Marlene protested, holding on to Cloud's leg. He shoved her away with ease.

He locked the door and roughly pushed the young boy to sit on a chair. Cloud's teeth were teetering with anger. How can the boy not tell that she would just eventually leave him like Aeris did to Cloud? How can he not tell that beneath the kindness was a sarcastic smile and overwhelming pain?

Cloud wanted to warn him that the moment he made the mistake of caring so much, he'd be worse than dead. He wanted to warn the boy that she would manipulate, control and crush him eventually. She'll leave him yearning for a promise and he'd end up falling head first into thorns of deceit. He will eventually be left loving her and hating her. One day he'd just find himself breathing for her, which was worse than not breathing at all.

He wanted to shout words filled with anger and save the young boy from the miserable and pathetic fate that was due him yet he couldn't say anything. Not after he looked at Denzel and saw not only himself, but _her_ as well. Denzel, Cloud realized, was not his young self but a mixture of him and _her_. Beneath the anger, he had laughed. The world never ceased pulling jokes on him, as if to further deepen each wound, as if everything was not enough. If he wasn't so miserable he would have actually hugged the fearful boy.

He sneered bitterly. The son they never had.

He walked out the door to find Marlene outside, tears were welling in her eyes and he could see the fear etched on her face. He realized, Marlene would never again look at him the way she used to. Marlene hid behind the door. Cloud stalked away.

He laughed for his triumph of hurting _her_; he cried for his triumph of hurting _her. _He wondered how much more undeserving and disgusting he could get before_ she_ realized _she_ didn't want him anymore, before _she_ left even the few moments of his dreams.

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And there he was, finally falling into darkness. The cold bit his skin and the lack of warmth consumed him, and he had welcomed it as if it was his moment of rebirth. The only feelings left in his heart were both his love and hatred for _her_.

"_Is it my fault, Cloud? Is it because of me that it turned out like this?" she asked, voice sorrowful, eyes welling with tears. _

_'No, no, no, no, no! It's my fault, mine. All mine. Don't cry. Please don't cry.'_

"_Do you want me to leave?" she knelt in front of me, touching my face with cold fingers. The contact burned yet I let it be. How can I refuse her grace? I shook my head, being the weakling that I am. Deep in my mind, though her lips never moved, I knew she smiled. Triumphantly. _

His eyes opened to see a familiar ceiling. He was alive. He could feel the throbbing in his chest and the pain at his side. He blinked. Death was too good to be true anyway; he was a fool to think there would be no catch. He fought the urge to spill tears.

Someone beside him shifted. Tifa. She was watching him, crying. She was crying for their family, for the friend she'd never see again, for the man she loved, for the love he never returned.

"Get a hold, Cloud. This is not what _she _would have wanted."

Perhaps that was the reason why. Perhaps this was what he had become because this was not what _she_ wanted. Or perhaps he wanted to be everything that's why he ended up like this. Or maybe this was what he got for failing to save anyone and everyone. Perhaps he was just resigned to this fate, ever since he dreamed of SOLDIER, ever since he wanted to become Sephiroth, ever since he fell through the roof, ever since he wanted to meet _her_ too. Or maybe, just maybe, this was what _she_ wanted.

But such reasons don't matter. There was no point wasting time thinking about such trivial matters. The cold hard truth was that he was there, still alive, fucked up, miserable and broken beyond repair. It was something he just had to accept.

Tifa cried some more when Cloud neither blinked nor said a word. "Oh, Cloud…" she sobbed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and put her head on his chest.

Cloud found himself laughing. Not because he knew Tifa would be like before and their destructive one-sided love _affair_ had yet again started. He laughed for he understood it now. He was resigned to live a long lifetime of torture. And when he dies, he was almost sure he'd see _her_ there, and _her_ gentle eyes will torment him yet again. He laughed for he realized that in this lifetime and in the next, he will forever remain _her_ slave.

Eventually, he closed his eyes and pretended everything was alright, that it was Aeris' head on his chest and her pained sobs that he heard.

He was Tifa and Aeris was him. And he realized, he deserved to be.

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Cookies to whoever correctly guessed who almost killed Cloud. 

Long story short, four years ago Cloud's arm was rendered useless in a fight and due to depression, his brain conjured up even more fucked up thoughts.

Thanks for reading!


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